“I helped you build every single brick of that empire, Wesley,” Cassie said, her voice shaking with a mixture of rage and profound sorrow. “I was the one who convinced the first round of angel investors to take a chance on you when you didn’t even have a functioning prototype to show them.”
She reminded him of the endless nights she spent networking and the countless times she had protected his reputation during the disastrous PR crisis of 2018. Wesley merely offered a cold, mechanical smile that did not reach his eyes as he adjusted the cuffs of his expensive tailored suit.
“Please do not resort to such pathetic theatrics because you lived a life of absolute luxury that most people can only dream of,” Wesley remarked dismissively. “You had the estate in the suburbs, the designer wardrobe, the private drivers, and the elite social circles of the city.”
Miranda Frost reached into her briefcase and placed a small, rectangular slip of paper in the center of the table. “Mr. Rhodes is offering you a one-time payment of fifteen thousand dollars as a gesture of pure charity so that you can begin to relocate yourself,” the lawyer stated.